


Root of Bitterness

by listlessness



Series: Seasons of Kink bingo [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Creampie, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hate Sex, Humiliation kink, Size Kink, Wall Sex, degradation kink, enemies-to-enemies-that-fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 13:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20008816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listlessness/pseuds/listlessness
Summary: Bitterness should not be confused with resentment. There's no moving on from resentment. Luther and Vanya have moved far past that, and into something closer to loathing.





	Root of Bitterness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [Seasons of Kink](https://seasonofkink.dreamwidth.org/) bingo square, size kink. This turned into more like degradation kink, but hey. 
> 
> PS Luther may or may not have a small dick.

Luther knew he was never going to make it up to Vanya. He didn't expect to. Even if she had accepted his apologies, even if she had begrudgingly forgiven him, he knew the hurt and anger would always colour the most private moments. 

He didn't expect it to change. He almost didn't want it to. The guilt had become remarkably soothing. It gave him something real and tangible and _different_ to hold onto. It is beyond his body, with the thick, wide fingers, the tough, leathery skin, with a hue and hair not his own. Being judged and criticised for his actions was somehow a lot easier to contend with than the idea of people painting an image of him for a body he hadn't grown up in. 

But he and Vanya had a history, and, somehow, despite Luther being the one to lock her away and tear open all her old fears, that counted for something. Luther walked a tightrope of trying not avoiding her, but also trying not to crowd her. He acknowledged her over breakfast, bit back the urge to criticise her when she gave grunts and one-word answers to his questions. Gradually, his mere presence didn't make her flinch, and she worked up to including him in conversations with single-syllable questions instead of giving him the cold shoulder. It was a start. 

Forgiveness was sweet, but Luther found himself wanting something more. 

The desire itself wasn't unusual. Despite being Number One, he had always needed and hungered for someone else to be in control. He may have been top dog out of his siblings, but Reginald had always been the one pulling the strings. Luther hadn't moved out of home for a plethora of reasons, but shoved somewhere in the middle was a fear of having to make his own way in the world without someone hanging over his shoulder. 

And now his siblings were home and he could relinquish some of that control. 

But there was more he wanted to do. He wanted to make it up to Vanya. No, he _needed_ to make it up to her. And a part of him, the part that beat himself up and continuously needled that part of his brain that he would never be anything more than Number One in name, wanted Vanya to fight him. He appreciated the small steps towards forgiveness, certainly, but he almost wanted her to still be mad at him, to fight back a little more. 

He wanted to _earn_ her forgiveness. He just had no idea how to go about that. 

'I'm not about to go and cause the house to fall apart again,' Vanya drawled from where she sat alone in the wide living room, a book on her lap. 'You don't need to stand there and watch me.' 

As it was, Luther was _really_ bad at figuring out how to earn her forgiveness. He'd been standing in the archway of the living room for several minutes, twiddling his thumbs. The back of her head was the only thing visible, and she had turned ever so slightly to address him. 

Vanya looked so small. She had always been small. Small in height, small in demeanour. In the few family photographs that there were that included her, she could be front and centre and still blend into the background. 

'Oh. I wasn't,' he said, a good ten seconds too late, his tone a little flat. 'I was... Allison and Five are going to the store. They wanted to know if you wanted anything.' 

There was a pause from Vanya. Her head turned a little more, so he could see her profile. Then, 

'No.' A beat. 'Is that all?' 

Her voice was curt, abrupt. Something in Luther's chest twisted and he felt a strangled noise build up inside of him, before he let out an exhale, nodded, and took a step back. 

'Oh- okay. I'll... sure. Let me know if you change your mind.' 

It was relief. As strange as it was, Luther was relieved that Vanya was still angry with him. He could handle that. Anger and frustration and bitterness. It was a more familiar bedfellow than the strange amicable standoff they had been engaging in for however long. 

* 

It dawned on Luther, in dribs and drabs, that he liked the coldness. It reminded him of the moon. He was sure that said something about him. He wasn't yet sure what it said, but he knew it meant _something_. As much as Luther craved Vanya's attention, her forgiveness, her ability to move on, he also wanted something harsh. He wanted, _needed_ , to be reminded of how badly he had messed up. 

Affection had been hard to come by in the Hargreeves household. As children they had been starved of it, and as adults they had missed the vital lessons on what it meant to be in a healthy relationship. All the siblings turned to one another for what they had missed out on and, equally, they were repulsed the moment one of them got too close. Luther was no different. He knew that. 

But he craved something. It hit him deep, somewhere behind his sternum and between his ribs. It was sharp and desperate and he _needed_ something from Vanya. 

And, slowly, she began to give it to him. 

Her short jibes began to pick away at his hard shell. Occasionally he would catch her glaring at him from over a cup of Irish coffee, the smell of alcohol and cream mixing together in the too-early morning. Sometimes she'd keep a wide berth around him, as though he was in the middle of an exclusion zone. Other times she'd barrel right into him, trying as hard as she might to have her shoulder jab him below the ribs. It didn't hurt, though he knew she was intending it to. 

Those were becoming the moments he looked forward to the most. 

He'd begun to provoke her, too. Luther could tell when he was beginning to succeed. He'd stare at her too long, just enough to have her twitching across the table from him. Sometimes he'd find whatever book she had been reading earlier and put it on the top shelf in the study, leaving her to huff and tap her foot as she looked for something to stand upon. 

Sometimes he was more direct. 

'Y'know, I think I liked you a lot better when you were quiet and just wrote everything in a tell-all book,' he snapped one day. 

He wasn't even sure what had made him say it. It wasn't anything worth being short over. But Vanya looked at him, _stared_ at him, her upper lip twitching into a sneer. 

'I think everyone liked you a lot better when you didn't look like you'd fit right in at the zoo.' 

Luther deserved that. He knew he deserved that. 

* 

Somehow Vanya had begun to pick up on it. It took time. Vanya may have written a book and Luther may have been the would-be leader of their shitty sibling team, but the idea of direct communication was foreign to both of them. 

But Vanya began to learn and Luther, relishing every moment of it, encouraged her. Her words to him began to drip with bitterness, her elbows began to make more frequent contact with his hips and ribs. 

One of them ought to have put a stop to it. Luther knew he should have, being the leader. 

He didn't. 

He liked the sight of her small frame standing opposite his own, her dark eyes glaring up at him as she stabbed her finger into his chest. Her nose only reached his sternum, her brow a good inch or two under his collar bones. He could shove her over with just a brush of his hand if he so wished, but he let her push at him, her voice washing over him like a balm on a blistering burn. 

'You've _never_ been a good leader,' she snapped, her voice quivering as she tried to modulate it. 'Never. Dad only put you as Number One because he couldn't stand the idea of someone more competent than him being in charge.' 

It hurt, but he wanted to hear it. 

'At least he had a place for me in the team, unlike you,' he replied, coaxing more from her. 

'A place for you? He sent you the furthest place he could and left you there. He _forgot_ about you.' 

The words sat deep within Luther. They hurt. Of course they hurt, they were intended to hurt. The pain was real and sharp and he could almost taste it. It made him breathe sharply as he churned over them later in bed. 

He liked the hurt. 

He liked Vanya hurting him. 

* 

Maybe it was inevitable that they ended up in the bedroom. Vanya had begun to burn hot has an adult, freed from her insecurities and fears. It had to be like a weight off her shoulders. Luther envied her a little, that. The closest he got was allowing her to pick on him. 

But all of it felt a little like a spit in their father's face, too. It had been inevitable, the first and last child being at odds with one another. The heir and the spare – wasn't that some old rhyme? 

And how far it had got them. Vanya deserved the Hargreeves name more than he ever did. He'd become the forgotten one, the one that had been tucked away for later. 

'I'm not surprised he couldn't stand the sight of you,' Vanya snapped, spitting each word as she stabbed her finger into his chest. 'You're pathetic. You're a big, hulking, _pathetic_ mess.' 

'At least he spoke to me. Unlike you. He didn't even read your book.' 

'He didn't even read your letters when you were on the moon.' 

Every word cut deep, each accusation and declaration stinging sharper and sweeter than the one before it. It burned, and Luther found himself gritting his teeth as her nails raked down his back. Her nails were far too short to do any kind of lasting damage, but it didn't matter when her words hurt so much more. 

His skin was thick like leather. Her nails were dull and short, and even as her fingers pinched and clawed at him as he hauled her up against the wall, they were nothing more than a mere graze. Her heels kicked at his thighs and the curve of his ass, her teeth biting at his neck and jaw. 

She was so small to hold. She'd always been a wisp of a girl, even in their youth, but now she felt impossibly light. Underneath his fingers he could feel the promise of strong, lithe muscles, growing tight as she scrabbled to hold onto him, but Luther felt he could carry her in one hand. 

'You're- you're _huge_ ,' she gasped as he let his cock slide against her slick cunt. 'A beast. And- and he still... still forgot about you.' 

Her words became staggered and stammered as he thrust up inside her. Her shoulders hit the wall she was braced against, her head smacking a little. Without thinking, he cupped the back of her head, her hair caught between his fingers, as he kept her pinned to the wall with a hand on her waist. A sharp gasp spilled from Vanya, her head falling back as she squeezed at his shoulder. 

Luther never quite knew what to do with his hands. The dark hue of his skin, so inhuman and strange, contrasted with Vanya's soft, pink skin. He watched as one of her hands slid up his arm and clutched at his bicep. Her heels were digging in hard, forcing him to take her with more force. Over the slap of skin, he could hear her shoulders rubbing against the wallpaper. 

'Luther- ' 

The sound of his name, gasped aloud as Vanya shuddered against him, had him growling. Her mouth was open against his shoulder, her breath hot as she arched to meet him. 

'Luther, _please_ \- ' 

' _No_.' 

He didn't mean his tone to be as hard as it was, but he was unable to help himself. Gritting his teeth, he paused mid-thrust. 

'Meaner,' he finally got out, spitting the words through his teeth. 'Make it... make it mean.' 

With her head back and lips parted, Vanya watched him through her lashes. Her cheeks were flushed, and this close, he could see the freckles that dusted the tip of her nose. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, black, her lips bitten and kiss swollen. 

For a beat she just eyed him, considering his words. Then, as a heel slid down one of his ass cheeks and pressed to the top of the back of his thigh, she urged him to move a little rougher. A small yelp spilled from her as Luther began to thrust again. 

'A brute,' she finally said. 'That's what he made you. A brute. So... so big- _hulking_ \- a beast- ' 

Another soft yelp spilled from her. Her head fell back against his hand, his thick, blunt fingers pulling at her hair. His whole body was pressed against hers, forcing her to remain still as he fucked her. 

It also didn't give him all that much of an opportunity to touch her. 

It wasn't the greatest problem for Luther. Her cunt was hot and wet, and oh so incredibly tight around his cock. He could feel the drag of her small breasts against his chest as he thrust as best he could, given the position they were in. Although it wasn't particularly graceful or smooth, Luther still found himself on a short, straight road to climax. 

'You're... you're an animal,' Vanya continued on, gasping around the words. 'A beast. You're big. Clumsy.' 

'More,' Luther growled into her ear, each uttered threat sending him closer to the edge. 'Meaner.' 

A gurgle came from the back of Vanya's throat. A hand had begun to clutch at the back of his neck, holding on as she tried to find the right words. Squinting at her, he watched as she struggled to choose what to say. Even she had a limit to what she felt comfortable saying. 

Luther didn't want comfortable right then, though. He wanted mean. He _needed_ cruel. 

' _Big_ ,' Vanya wheezed. 'Monstrous. Huge. Except- except your cock. I can barely feel it.' 

If he wasn't already balls-deep inside of her, he might have laughed. Maybe, possibly. As it was, the sharp intake of breath Vanya gave with every thrust, the way her nails scratched at his back, suggested she was exaggerating a fair bit. 

And, _sure_. Maybe his cock hadn't grown the same as the rest of his body. It was perhaps a little out of proportion to the rest of his new, larger form. But he could still use it, and as far as he could tell, Vanya wasn't complaining about it and had yet to find fault with it. 

He came quicker than he intended. With a guttural noise, he thrust up, spilling inside of her. Vanya's legs were tight around his hips, her ankles hooked. Her heels pressed against the top of his ass, some of her toes digging into his spine. She'd have felt it. Perhaps she could even hear it; he had no idea how far her supernatural abilities went. Maybe she could hear the pulse of his heart, the contraction of his muscles, the electrical impulses in his brain that betrayed his ego and demanded she belittle him. Maybe that was why she was so good at it. 

She moaned as he slipped free. His hand slid out from behind her head, and she let it thud against the wall. Her skin was flushed, her nipples hard, sweat running between her breasts. Her hair stuck to her face and shoulders with sweat. 

'You didn't even have the courtesy to get me off,' she mumbled. 'Pathetic.' 

'I'm not finished with you yet.' 

'That's what they all say.' 

Luther wasn't done yet. Vanya had to know that. For all her trash talk and degrading words, she never walked away unsatisfied. 

He held her by the hips, keeping her lifted in the air. When he dropped to his knees, it echoed with a thud around his bedroom. Her feet dangled a good several inches off the floor. Once he was in front of her, she lifted both up and let them hook over his shoulders. 

Her hands delved into his hair, guiding his head up. Obediently, Luther let his face get crushed against her cunt. She was musky, wet, smelling of sex. Already he could taste himself inside of her, salty and rich, as he swiped his tongue over it. 

The moan Vanya gave was sweet. It broke at the end, as her thighs tightened against his ears and her nails bit at his scalp. One of her feet had begun to drag against the fur on his shoulders, the twitch in her calf muscle a signal for her close she was. 

'Fuck, at least you're good for something.' 

His tongue pressed in deep, before he ran it up to her clit. The short, dark hair between her legs scratched at his lips and nose, burning in a way he supposed his beard must. He ignored it, though, instead focusing on her. The way she huffed, the small hiccup the spilled from her as his teeth very lightly grazed. 

'Fuck, Luther,' Vanya moaned, her voice cracking. 'You've finally figured out how to use your mouth for something other than calling yourself number one.' 

Gripping her hip tight, Luther dropped a hand. Pressing his thumb to her clit, he watched as a shiver ran up her spine. The blush from her cheeks had extended down her chest, across her breasts, and along her sternum. Even her belly was growing pink in parts. 

Her thighs tightened. The twitch in her calf muscle was escalating. Sliding two fingers inside her, his thumb still working her clit, Luther watched as her orgasm began to rush over her. 

She was always noisy when she came. It was par for the course. Luther sometimes wondered if it had something to do with her ability. The rush of blood, the intake of oxygen, the thrum of her heart. He always intended to ask, but he found it impossible to do so. Their relationship and whatever _this_ was didn't extend to niceties afterwards. 

He withdrew her fingers once her breathing had slowed. Wiping his mouth on his bicep, he held her a moment longer, until she drew her legs up. Bracing her feet on his shoulders, she pushed him back, until she was able to press her toes to the floor. Down she slid, Luther guiding her along the wall. Once she was standing on her own, he moved back and tossed her shirt at her. She took it, pulled it on, and dragged her hair out to fall down the back. 

Luther was halfway into his pants when she finally spoke. 

'Decent,' she said. 'You're getting better.' 

He looked up in time to see her fastening her jeans. In the back pocket she had shoved her panties. Watching her leave, he coughed, wiped his mouth again, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Somehow the small compliment gnawed at him more than anything else. 

Maybe he deserved it. 


End file.
